


Through The Lens

by Mansaehun



Category: ASTRO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comedy, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Love, Love Triangles, Mental Health Issues, Other, Psychological Trauma, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-03 21:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11540919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansaehun/pseuds/Mansaehun
Summary: What happens when you place an actress with a bad attitude along an enthusiastic psychotherapist and a mysterious new manager? It is a known fact everything doesn’t go as planned. It is also known that the surface can be deceiving. Nam Mija is a young actress, named the nation’s little sister among many other stars. Well-known, loved, successful… mixed with bad attitude and problems with mental health. After messing up on a live broadcast, Mija will experience hitting the rock bottom. The young actress will learn through experience that life is not all about glitter and spotlights as the mysteries of her past unfold and reveal something far more dangerous than anti-fans.





	1. In one's prime

**Author's Note:**

> I introduce you my first story on ao3. I have been active on Asianfanfics but thought that I should start publishing my works on other sites as well to get more readers. About the story, it has action, it has angst, but I'm trying to keep it neutral by adding romance and comedy too. I hope you enjoy reading and leave a comment since they really make my day and help me improve as a writer!

“Hello everyone, and welcome back. Now, let us finish our interview with Nam Mija!”

It was still unreal for me. Hearing my name on radio, seeing my face on huge advertisements and billboards, watching myself in the television. The number of my Instagram followers grew, first to one million, then towards the second. And when I was officially granted the “actress of the year” award, it finally got to me. I had worked hard for years and now I had finally made it. I was in my prime, the nation’s little sister. I’d be a liar if I denied that the fame got into my head a little bit. I loved it when people recognized me at the grocery store next to the apartment building I lived in. I felt myself filling with warmth every time someone asked for a signature. At some point it did become tiring - especially if I was recognized and then surrounded by big crowds. But that was part of the whole thing; I was now a celebrity, both the good and bad sides of it were now part of my life.

The last year had been insane for my part. A year ago I had been working like a horse, working out and learning dance for my role in a weekend drama. It had been my breakthrough. My invitation to the spotlight. And now I was already shooting a film with the A class actors and actresses I had grown up admiring.

“So, as we already talked about your latest drama, which was a huge hit, next I want to ask you about your current or future works”, the radio DJ asked, flashing me a wide smile.

I smiled back at the woman - even though there were no cameras it was essential to keep a smile on my face pretty much all the time to keep up my ‘nation’s little sister’ image.

“Well, I’m currently filming a movie as you know”, I started. “It’s going to change my image a little bit. Until this all of my roles have been very bright and feminine, but this time the movie’s genre is action so naturally my role will be darker and definitely more active. And, well… I’m not entirely sure if I’m allowed to say this but I’m actually in talks for my own reality show.”

I couldn’t help but to examine the DJ’s facial structure and expressions as I spoke. I was amazed by the fact she had the patience to listen to me with a warm smile that never faded, not even the smallest bit. She nodded while I finished.

“I must say you’re one amazing girl”, she chuckled. “You have the energy to take part in multiple projects at once. Lend me some of that energy! Anyway, we’re almost running out of time. Mija, thank you for being my guest today and I really look forward to seeing your future works.”

“Thank you”, I said while nodding. “I’m glad I was invited!”

As the interview came to its end and me and the DJ exchanged bows and goodbyes, I felt like I could finally let the overly wide fake smile melt away from my face. I opened the studio’s room and walked out quickly. I grabbed a bottle of water on my way and took a sip as I headed towards the waiting room where my manager and other staff were waiting. I let out a sigh as I sat down into one of the big, comfortable leather chairs.

“How did it go?” I asked, taking another sip from the bottle. “How many listened to the online broadcast?”

“It went very well”, my manager replied and I could almost hear the boredom from his voice. I glared at the man. “There were a lot of good comments. But apparently miss Yang Misook had her interview on one of the big channels at the same time so she stole a lot of the listeners.”

I closed my eyes and blew out air from my lungs. That bitch.

“And why did you say yes to me giving this interview if you knew Misook was giving her interview on another channel?” I asked and threw the water bottle at the man, not really thinking. “She always steals my fans, you know that.”

“I swear to God, Mija”, the man said with a calm voice, anger still implied. “I’m going to be the next one to resign.”

I stared at the man for a second with a bland look in my eyes. “Do what you want.”

It was a known fact behind the scenes that my staff tended to change a lot and often. I needed certain type of people to work with me. One example was my hair and make up artist Woo Mikyung. She had been working with me since my clumsy debut year and even though we fought more than often, she hadn’t resigned. She was a tough cookie and I liked it - in my own way. I felt like fighting with people made me stronger emotionally, and that’s what I enjoyed.

I snorted as I watched my manager let out a sigh and pick up the water bottle from the floor, placing it on the table and telling me I had things to do and attend to. I agreed and got up from the chair, waiting for the staff to gather their things. A few minutes later I was seated at the back of a minivan, on a comfy white leather seat, air conditioner on full power blowing at me. I didn’t like hot. I didn’t like South Korea’s summer a lot anyway. Hot and humid. I was definitely a winter person.

I went through my social media on my phone and then made the mistake to look at the newest articles. For my disappointment, there was a big article with a beautiful picture of my rival Yang Misook, based on the interview she had given just a couple of moments ago. I let out a sigh. She had always been famous. She had it easy because her debut was her breakthrough. We had trained at the same company and somehow she had been able to debut a year earlier than me - just because one weekend drama needed a young actress to act out the younger version of the female lead. I felt myself almost groaning as I remembered the trainee times. The way she had smiled at me, her greatest rival, as a sign of winning, getting to debut earlier.

But that’s how we became best friends. Our rivalry made us know each other so well we knew pretty much everything. We knew each others’ strengths and weaknesses, everything. We were also like yin and yang. In the media, in the eyes of public, I was the sweet and cute one and she was mature and sexy. In reality, I was the bitch - or at least Misook called me that - and she was an angel. But these differences were probably the power that made us so close in the beginning.

As I saw the minivan approaching an familiar area, I yawned and stretched my arms a little bit. I had been sitting for a while and soon I’d have to sit for another hour. I hopped off the minivan and told my manager to be back before my appointment would end. Then I put my phone away, tying my hair up on a ponytail and sighed as I looked up at the blue sign hanging from the building’s ceiling. Department of psychiatry.

“Congratulations, Mija! This will be the last session for you”, the young psychotherapist congratulated me. “You’ve defeated your trauma. You can control it, you can live with it. You don’t need my help anymore.”

Even if I didn’t completely trust the words, the man telling them to me was more than trustworthy and I knew it. I watched as the young man wrote down his last notes about the session, brushing his chestnut coloured hair off his face and then taking off his reading glasses. He hanged them on the edge of his white coat’s pocket with a happy, proud smile on his face.

“I am a bit sad, anyhow…” he pointed out, tilting his head. “I’m losing my favourite patient.”

Kim Myungjun. We had known for many, many years… probably ten years now. We had attended the same school for a short while, and even though we weren’t exactly close back then, I was more than happy to get to know him as my psychotherapist later. He was two years older than me but it had always amazed me, the fact that he had been able to graduate from university and become so successful at such a young age.

“Favourite patient?” I repeated with a cocky smile on my lips. “I don’t think so. You’re probably super happy to get rid of me.”

“Why would you say that?” Myungjun asked, flashing me a fake offended look. “You know I care deeply of you. Remember that you can contact me any time if the symptoms come back or… if, just if, you happen to get a panic attack. Alright?”

I nodded. Deep down I knew we were both just happy and relieved that the hell I had gone through seemed to finally have calmed down.

I had been diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder when I was 15, caused by witnessing the murder of my parents. Six years before that, nine-year-old Mija lied under her parents’ bed, watching her mother and father fall onto the ground, bloody and dead, in turns. I had been suffering from the consequences, the symptoms, for years. Flashbacks, panic attacks, anxiety in dark places, nightmares, the fear, the nausea… it was all too much for a child to handle alone. For years I had to explain myself and seek for help - nobody took me seriously. They pitied me for being an orphan and having to have witnessed something so cruel in my life. But they didn’t understand how I felt. That’s why after I auditioned for Dream Store Entertainment, I really hit a jackpot as they took my mental health seriously and got me to attend psychotherapy. A few years after that I had met Myungjun at the hospital, starting his internship there. And now he was working full-time there and I was the one to move on.

“I bet I’ll be all right”, I stated. “I got help from the best.”

Myungjun chuckled at my comment and his eyes sparkled at the compliment. “I told you you’re my favourite.”

The man got up and walked me to the door of his office, opening the door for me. I almost didn’t want to leave, I didn’t really have anything scheduled for the rest of the day - I didn’t like staying still and resting for long periods of time. I was about to suggest we’d catch a coffee before I’d leave, but I got a call from a friend so we had to say goodbye. Myungjun waved at me with a wide smile on his face before closing the office’s door behind him.

I took the call and the smile - even though it was genuine this time - faded away immediately. “Bitch, you stole my listeners.”

Misook was laughing at the other end of the call. “Oh, did you have an interview as well?”

“Say no more, I’m coming to your place.”


	2. The Beginning

I had never been a big fan of early mornings. Especially after just a few hours of sleep. Last evening my and Misook’s short chatter by coffee had prolonged into hours of talking. It had been very late when I called for my manager to drive me home. It wasn’t even surprising at this point for him to yell at me - just why would I call for him at night when I could’ve just taken a taxi. Why, you ask? Because I can.  
It was 6am when my alarm went off and I was forced to wake up from my sleep. I reached out my hand and tried to locate my alarm clock, blinded by my sleeping mask. When my fingers finally hit the button at the back of the clock, I collapsed back into my bed and mumbling five more minutes, closed my eyes again. Oh, how badly I wanted to sleep more. I did know, anyhow, that I had an important live broadcast today so I shouldn’t slack off at all. With a groan I sat up, ripping the sleeping mask off my face and started stretching my limbs. I felt like I had been overrun by a truck, a bus at least. Still intensively yawning, I managed to get up and drag myself into the bathroom. I shed out of my pyjamas and threw them into the laundry basket, stepping into the shower cubicle, waiting for the hot water to wake me up.  
After washing up I walked to my apartment’s kitchen, wearing a soft fluffy bathrobe, having my hair tied up with a towel. After I prepared a small breakfast - green tea, orange juice, oatmeal - for myself, I went through my social media, sitting at the small dining table I had.  
Someone would think my apartment was pretty small and simple for a celebrity, but I liked simple things. I liked the plain white walls, the plain white, simple furniture and the variety of green plants I had around the apartment to give the space some colour and freshness. I liked plants. I had them hanging from the ceiling, I had big pots with big palm-like plants in the corners, and I had some on my shelves as well. I didn’t care much for too much furniture or too many rooms, either. I had a spacious kitchen-living room combo and two bedrooms - well, the other was more like an office or a room for my guests that I had in some rare occasions.  
Letting out another yawn, I put my dishes away and returned to my bedroom to pick up some clothes from the clothes rack. I knew I’d probably get another outfit from the stylist when I’d arrive at the filming location, so I dressed comfortably, in ripped mom jeans and a plain white T-shirt. After towel drying my hair I just tied it up into a bun and picked a mask from my closet. As much as I enjoyed being recognized by the public, I also enjoyed wearing masks. I didn’t always have to be monitored by people.  
At some point I started to wonder why hadn’t my manager called me yet, that he’d come to pick me up. At first I just thought he had probably overslept a little bit or had a situation of his own. But when the clock was nearing 8am, I was starting to get nervous. The shoot would start at noon, and I knew I’d have to be there at the location earlier, also getting ready for the cameras would take some time. Not to forget that I’d have to discuss with the producers and directors about the shoot.  
After another 15 minutes I lost my patience and called to my manager. “Hey, where are you? You should’ve been here an hour ago!”  
“The president didn’t call you, didn’t he?” I heard my manager’s voice that sounded almost wicked. “I resigned. If the president didn’t inform you, well... you’re on your own, then. For once.”  
The phone call ended and I stared at the screen with my eyes widened in fury. How dared he abandon me like this? I knew he’d had enough of me and wanted to resign but why time it like this? My time to get to the filming location was limited, morning rush was ongoing and public transportation was no option for me. I’d get recognized and people would probably surround me so badly I’d never make it to the shoot.  
I let out a groan and got up from the leather sofa I had been sitting on, grabbing my bag and running out of the apartment. If I’d be able to grab a taxi, I might make it to the location in time. I stood at the street for a moment, waving my hand and shouting at the taxis that drove by with high speed.  
“Taxi!”I shouted again, reaching my hand out. Finally one of the cars stopped and I hopped in, telling the address of the broadcasting station. The taxi driver eyed at me from the mirror, clearly realizing who I was. Taking into consideration that I was out of breath, annoyed and worried, I managed to keep my face normal pretty well and smiled at the man as he drove off.  
I was a little bit late as I finally arrived at the broadcasting station, and my staff were outside the building, clearly wondering where I was, walking in circles and speaking into their phones. As they noticed me hopping off a taxi they looked relieved but still very “done with my shit.”  
“What happened, where have you been?” Mikyung, my hair and make up artist, asked, rushing towards me.  
“Loved and dear Mr Manager decided to resign with the worst timing possible”, I groaned and rolled my eyes. “If you’re going to shout at me, let’s go inside so people won’t see.”  
I walked ahead of my staff whom I could see sighing and rolling their eyes before following me inside the building. I had filmed in this building before too so I made my way down the hallways and found my dressing room easily. I sat down on a chair and crossed my arms, waiting for me staff to start raging at me.  
“I know this is not the first time”, Mikyung sighed, the anger rising. “And definitely not the last. But do you ever think about it? You’ve had four managers quit in the last year! What if someone of them speaks up about it to the media, telling you’re not the angel you play to the public? That you’re actually nothing more than a little bitch!”  
“Yes, you’re having a bad day, I see.”, I snapped back at the girl. “If you’re having such a hard time, why don’t you quit too?”  
The girl groaned, messing her short hair and blowing out some air, trying to calm down. I snorted and shrugged my shoulders, looking elsewhere. Neither of us had anything to say so the fight was cut short, the tension faded away quickly and everybody started working. I was given the clothes to wear for the broadcast, a pastel pink A-line skirt with a white shirt and a choker to wear around my neck. After I was dressed, I sat down and let Mikyung do her magic to my hair and face. Even if she had every right and opportunity to burn my hair or mess up my face, but she never did. She was a pro at her work and didn’t get our personal issues to get in the way of work.  
After I was ready and all dolled up, I got up from the chair and looked at my reflection from the mirror. The make up was natural and my long dark brown locks had been curled. I nodded as an acceptance. She had done a great work once again. I noticed myself yawning once again and frustrated by my exhaustion, decided to go an have some fresh air.   
The broadcasting station had a convenient rooftop with cute little benches here and there - it was probably a great place for the station’s workers to enjoy their breaks at. I could imagine people sitting on the benches with takeaway coffee and chattering away. Sometimes I wondered what it would’ve been like, to just continue studying and become an office worker. Would that kind of life suited me? I’d have probably been fired multiple times for my attitude. I snorted at the thought and closed my eyes for a second. Just a second later I knew I should have never closed my eyes. I heard a click and quickly looked behind me.  
There was a person, presumably a male, dressed in black from head to toes, covering his face with a black cap and a mask, pointing a gun at me. My eyes widened in fear and with a loud gasp I got up, shaking and trying to figure out what to do.  
“Don’t move”, the male said and took a step towards me.  
With my heart beating I backed out from him, feeling the sweat starting to rise onto my skin. I was shaking. As the man approached me, never putting the gun down, I noticed myself going closer and closer to the edge of the rooftop. Of course there was a high railing to prevent people from falling, but it also meant I was trapped between the rail and the gunman. I felt my pulse becoming so fast I could feel it, and I knew I was going to get a panic attack. I closed my eyes in terror. Breathing was becoming harder and sweat was falling down my face. I heard a gunshot, and another, and as I opened my eyes, I saw flashbacks of my parents falling onto the floor, dead. I let out a cry and raised my hands onto my ears, thinking witht he last sanity I had left, that I’d probably faint soon.  
I didn’t get back to my senses until the man was attacked from back and he was lying on his stomach on the ground, two guards keeping him there and taking the gun away from him. I was still sitting, my back against the rooftop’s railing, crying out loud and shaking aggressively.  
“Mija”, I heard a female voice call out my name and someone placed a hand on my shoulder gently. “Mija, it’s all right now.”  
Confused, I turned my head to look at my left. Mikyung was there, her hand patting me softly, and smiling at me. I just stared at her for a moment before I let out my last cry and collapsed onto her. She was there to hold me for a minute or two before she helped me get up, still holding tightly onto my shoulders to make sure I wouldn’t fall down.  
As I finally got back into my senses, my muscles were aching and I felt out of breath. “What happened?” I managed to ask.  
“So far, no information”, Mikyung stated. “The guards will report the man to police and they’ll investigate. Do you think you can walk? We have to fix you.”  
I nodded weakly and let the girl lead me back inside and into the dressing room. She sat me down, giving me a bottle of water and some napkins to wipe of all the tears and the snot that had been mixed on my face, probably making my make up look horrible. I closed my eyes as she started fixing my makeup. My heart was still beating like crazy and I brought my hand to my chest. I felt like suffocating. I took a big mouthful of the water and swallowed it slowly. I hadn’t got any panic attacks since I started my therapy with Myungjun. He had just declared me healthy yesterday. Yet now I felt like I’d need another five years of therapy before feeling all right again.  
“I want to go home”, I sniffed.  
“I do believe you”, Mikyung said, sounding a little bit embarrassed as she was patting some foundation onto my chin. “But the live broadcast can’t be cancelled at this point. The shoot will start in half an hour... you have to get through it somehow.”  
I felt like crying again as I listened to the girl’s words. A shoot? In this state of mind? I took a deep breath, trying to conceal my symptoms. I was an actress, a good one at that. I could get through one shooting. I had to. The public didn’t know of my disorder. They’d probably think I was drunk of high on drugs if I showed my real condition on the live broadcast. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the backrest of the sofa. I’d calm down before the shoot. Half an hour? My panics attacks never went on for longer than 20 minutes.  
“Mija.”  
I jumped in fright at Mikyung calling out my name and was about to scream and hit the girl.  
“Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t faint”, the girl stated. “I’ll get you a cup of tea so you can calm down faster.”  
After a cup of hot green tea and almost completely emptied water bottle, and two bathroom breaks, I was feeling a little bit better. I was still jumpy and scared that a gunman would just barge in through any possible door, sticking close to Mikyung. She was the one that had been trained to take care of me in case of possible panic attacks - she had seen me have two before this day, so she kind of had the idea of what to do.  
“We’ll make sure you’ll be able to meet with Dr. Kim afterwards”, Mikyung whispered as we left the dressing room, walking towards the studio we’d start shooting in. “So please get through this.”  
I nodded at the girl weakly. I’d manage to do this. I’d succeed. I was good at concealing my true feelings. As we arrived, I was still too overwhelmed to talk with the director who stood behind the filming staff and the cameras. I noticed the middle-aged man flashing a smile at us but then turning away, clearly looking annoyed at the fact that we were late and about the incident at the rooftop. Like it was my fault someone broke in and tried to kill me? I felt pain in my chest and gasped at the feeling. I quickly fixed my posture again. I couldn’t show anyone that I was still suffering from the symptoms I had earlier.  
“All right, 5 minutes before the shoot starts!” one of the cameramen informed us. “Miss Nam Mija, you know what to do, right?”  
I flashed a smile at the man and nodded. Of course I knew. I just had to act pretty and feminine. I’d sit on a stool and we’d talk about my upcoming reality show. Then we’d proceed to leave the studio, the cameras filming me all the time, and I’d walk through the hallways while speaking, stating that I feel like getting some coffee and want to take my viewers with me. Then I’d go to the coffee shop at the other side of the street, drink a cup of coffee and say bye. We had gone through this yesterday already. This would be the live “teaser” of my reality show, showing the nature of the program - camera following me as I did my daily chores.  
Mikyung made sure I was looking alright and I got the sign to go and sit on the stool. I closed my eyes for a second. Okay. The broadcast lasts for 30 minutes. Half an hour, act carefree for half an hour and it’ll be all right.  
“Ready! Standby... cue!”  
I flashed the brightest smile I could at the camera and waved at the lens. “Hello everybody and welcome to follow my coffee break with my fans! I am currently at the broadcasting station where we’ll start shooting my reality show next week, and this is a little sneak peek for what you’ll see in the actual show!”  
I felt extremely clumsy doing my first speech. I felt like it was the first live broadcast I had ever done, even though it absolutely was not - like I was about to make a mistake and mess up with the words or something. At first I expected a mistake to be made, but as I relaxed a little bit, I forgot to worry about it. The speech started flowing naturally and my smile became less fake.  
“Ah, I almost forgot!” I chuckled as I finished talking about the movie I was currently filming, and got up from the stool. “This was supposed to be a coffee break. Should we get going?”  
I smiled sweetly at the camera as I started making my way out of the studio, into the dark hallway. I wanted to take a deep breath but couldn’t. Dark places had been my worst nightmare during the early years of my disorder, back when I had no counselling or therapy. I continued chattering and acting cute for the camera, hoping that nobody would notice me shaking slightly.  
We made our way to the coffee shop which was - for my luck - pretty empty, just a few people having their coffee breaks as well. Less people meant less candidates to suddenly pull out a gun and start shooting people. I felt a drop of sweat making its way down my cheek and almost let my eyes widen. No. It was summer, it was hot, it was normal to sweat... even for a A class actress like me.  
“I really like coming to this coffee shop for a refreshing break”, I stated, trying to keep my voice from shaking as I walked to the counter and ordered an iced Caramel Macchiato. As I was standing still, I noticed my knees shaking. Like they’d betray me any second, making me collapse. I was about to say something snarky about the heat making me dizzy or something, when suddenly someone’s cup fell onto the floor, shattering into many pieces. I jumped, probably extremely visibly, and my breathing got heavier. I closed my eyes for a second before looking at the camera again.  
“Oh, somebody dropped their coffee!” I said, pouting a little bit. I could hear my voice sounding a little bit weak, shaky. “What a shame.”  
So close. So close to actually getting shocked and letting my cover down. I’d have to be careful for the last minutes. I got my coffee and started making my way to a cute corner table by the window - the light would be good for filming and the setting looked nice as well. I walked carefully so I wouldn’t spill any of the coffee - the cup was pretty precisely filled. I was so concentrated on staring at the cup I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings for a moment.  
That was when someone decided to get up from a table and to start walking towards the door of the coffee shop, and of course this meant passing by me. I snapped out of staring at the cup as I heard footsteps getting closer and closer to me and I saw the outline of a man approaching. For a fraction of a second I saw the gunman pointing the gun at me in my mind and I got so startled at the male passing by me I bumped into him, the coffee spilling on both of us and the cup falling on the floor. That’s when I lost control.  
I let out a scream, both because I was startled and because of the ice cold coffee spilling against my skin and clothes. My line went right there.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” I screamed at the man. “Look what you did! You should look where you’re going, my clothes are ruined on top of having a shitty day!”  
I was screaming, raging, staring at the young man who stared back at me with wide eyes. He had started to wipe the coffee off his clothes but stopped immediately as I started with my show. I screamed at his face for a good minute before bursting into tears. As the rage faded out, I realized how fucked up the situation was. I had just had the worst mental breakdown ever on a live broadcast. My eyes widened in shock and I glanced at the main camera quickly, seeing just a terrified look on the cameraman’s face. I started hyperventilating again and felt like there was no other way out of this than escaping. And so I did. I ran towards the coffee shop’s door.  
“Cut! Stop filming! Now!” I heard shouting behind me as I rushed out of the coffee shop, into the streets of Seoul, no idea where to go or what to do.  
For the first time in years I felt completely helpless and alone.


	3. At the bottom

Chapter 3: At the bottom

 

I wasn’t present. I was asleep. In a trance. That’s how I felt. I didn’t remember how I had returned home. Had I taken a taxi? Had someone offered to take me home? I didn’t know. I didn’t remember much about yesterday after running out of the coffee shop. I hadn’t probably eaten anything, not to talk about washing up or changing my clothes. When I woke up the next morning, I was still wearing the same pastel pink skirt and the shirt from yesterday’s shoot. My head was aching. It was a common thing for me. My panic attacks were often quite rough, and I usually got a headache the day after. This wasn’t an exception.

I lied on the bed, on my back, staring at the ceiling and thinking hard. Was there anything I could do? I didn’t even have a manager to clean up this mess. I let out a sigh and rolled onto my stomach, grabbing my phone from the night stand. Then I did the worst possible thing a celebrity can do after messing up. I went online and looked at the comments. With no expression on my face I read the comments.

Wow, she’s insane. I feel bad for the boy kkk. So she was fake after all. She’s got some issues with anger management. Nation’s little sister, huh?

As I read the comments, I wanted to burst in tears. But I couldn’t, I was out of cry, out of tears, after yesterday. As I raised my eyes from the screen, the next immediate feeling I felt was anger. I threw my phone on the floor and buried my face into a pillow, letting out a frustrated scream. What was I supposed to do now?

If I hadn’t gotten a call from the CEO of my company, I’d have probably spent another day sitting on my bed, not eating or washing up at all. So, I was lucky to receive a call and an invitation to go at the company immediately. Although going outside was the thing I least wanted to do right now, I did as I was told. After washing up a little bit and changing my clothes I placed a cap onto my head and covered my face with a mask and sunglasses. It wasn’t a sure way to keep people from recognizing me but it would help. Right now the idea about socializing with people I didn’t know sounded the scariest. Oh, how I wished my manager hadn’t resigned yet so that I’d have him to drive me to the company.

Instead, I had to take a taxi again. Luckily I could grab one immediately outside the apartment building, without me having to go to a more busy area.

As I arrived at the company, I stopped to stare at the huge building for a second. That was something I always did with no exceptions. Dream Store Entertainment. Truly a store selling dreams. The company had saved me during my worst breakdown and helped me achieve great things. Now I had caused a great disappointment for the company. With a sigh I entered the building, waiting for the lecture I’d receive from the CEO.

“I heard you had a panic attack yesterday.”

I was almost surprised by the warmth and the worry I was welcomed with at the man’s office. Song Minchul was a friendly man. He was the founder and the CEO of the company but he treated his idols in a good manner. He had once been a idol singer himself so he knew what being monitored by the public all the time meant, and what is was like.

“Yes...” I replied to the man and looked down. “I’m really sorry about acting that way.”

“No”, the man said right away. “The live broadcast should have been cancelled. They should’ve understood that you had been threatened with a gun just moment before.”

I sighed. He was right, but they had said that it was impossible to cancel at that point. I glanced at the man. He looked extremely tired. He must’ve been staying up last night, worrying about what would happen next. I was, after all, the biggest star under his company. Basically, if I was going down, I’d take the company down with me. Yet still the man seemed to worry more about me and my condition than money.

“Right now I’d love to tell the media about the gunman threatening you”, he started. “But everybody is talking about yesterday. If I talked about the gunman now, it would seem like covering up the coffee shop incident.”

“What should we do know, then?” I asked. The tone of my voice was a little bit more demanding it was supposed to be. I owed everything to this man, he was pretty much the only one I didn’t talk back to.

The CEO sighed. “I suggest you’re taking a break. Two weeks, I’d say. Then we can hold a press conference and apologize. I ask you to stay offline from social media as well.”

I looked down, at the tips of my shoes. He was right. It was for the best for me to just disappear for a while. After two weeks the ‘coffee shop incident’ wouldn’t be the most searched anymore, and I’d be able to slowly come back to the public. I noticed my eyes widening as I realized the thought about being in front of an audience scared me, an actress.

“I think it’s the best for your mental health, as well”, the man continued and got up from the sofa. “Let’s go, I’ll take you home. I can call for Dr. Kim to come and see you later today, hm?”

I nodded. His suggestion sounded good. I wanted to go home and be safe there. And I wanted to see Myungjun. I wanted help, to talk to someone. As I got up from the sofa as well and followed the CEO out of his office, I received a text message from Misook.

Bitch, you caused a mayhem this time... are you okay though?

I couldn’t help but to snort at the message a little bit. A quick reply of ‘let’s talk later’ was sent, and I followed the CEO to the parking lot. Soon I sat on the cool leather seat of his Mercedes, resting my head against the cool surface of the window. How fast could I get better this time? I had overcome my trauma once, I could do it again. But since my parents’ death, it took me 12 years to fully recover. How long would I have to get counselling this time? Well, at least I knew I had Myungjun to counsel me. I trusted him the most in this world.

 

After I was dropped off in front of my apartment building and I had returned home safely, I decided to start making myself feel better. I cleaned the apartment, making all the white surfaces look clean and shiny again. I watered all of my plants, made myself a fresh smoothie and after enjoying it slowly, took a long, hot shower. I had learned to take care of myself during hard times in the last 12 years so I knew what I had to do in order for me to feel better.

As I stepped out of the shower cubicle, wearing my bathrobe, waterdrops falling onto the floor from my wet hair, I heard a text message being sent to my phone. As I wrapped my hair in a fluffy towel, I walked to my phone to see the message.

I forgot to tell you that I have hired you a new manager. He’ll be coming to your apartment at some point today.

He was fast this time. I felt like the CEO had finally learned the fact that my managers tended to resign easily. It didn’t take him many days anymore to find me a new one - maybe he had a list of managers ready for work, waiting for me to annoy them and make them resign. The idea almost amused me. I knew I had some attitude but... was I really that bad?

I texted a quick 'ok' back to the man before putting the phone away and going to my room to put some clothes on. Adidas track pants and a comfortable big T-shirt served the purpose better than fine - I wouldn’t leave the apartment today anyway. Then I went to the living room, turning on the television and sat onto the leather sofa. I couldn’t understand people who didn’t like leather sofas. People, who said that they always felt too hot or cold, and sticky against bare skin. I had always loved them, especially the ones with a vintage feel to them. I lied down, happy about the fact I could fall asleep if I felt like it.

Just as my eyes were starting to close, a ringing doorbell started me. I jumped in shock and felt my heart beating so fast I thought it would come through my chest. I patted my chest a little bit before letting out a sigh and got up from the sofa. I walked to the door and glanced at the screen next to the door to see who was the one ringing the bell.

There was a decorated gift box on the floor and I could see a person walking away from the site. My eyes widened and I opened the door by instinct. The person had already disappeared, but the box was there. I frowned a little bit and picked it up, shaking it slightly. I couldn’t hear anything. I shrugged my shoulders and closed the door, taking the box with me. I returned to the living room and placed the box on the sofa, sitting down to unwrap it.

As I ripped off the ribbon and the pastel coloured papers, I found something that reminded me of an photo album. I opened the album and my eyes widened. The album was full of pictures of me. I knew some of them were stolen from fansites since I had seen them before, but some of the pictures were pretty disturbing - they showed me, in my own home, cooking or watching television. Someone had taken them through the window. With shaky hands I turned the page and a piece of paper fell to the floor. I picked it up and gasped in shock as I read the text.

Do you still hide under your bed when you’re scared?

For a second I just stared at the text, shaking in shock, my heart beating like crazy. Then the doorbell rang again and I let out a loud, startled scream, letting the box with the album and the text to fall onto the floor. I could feel a panic attack making its way to me again as my breathing got heavy and quick and I felt some pain in my chest. Not again, not again.

“Mija!” I heard a voice shout from outside. “Open the door!”

I recognized this voice. It was Myungjun. My beloved psychotherapist. The CEO had said he’s send him to me today. I closed my eyes, trying to calm down enough to be able to walk to the door and open it for him. With shaky, weak legs I managed to make my way to the door and let him in.

“I heard you screaming”, the young man said as soon as he got inside. “What happened?”

“Someone is stalking me”, I whispered and took a deep breath, trying to stop myself from hyperventilating.

Myungjun blinked his eyes, not fully understanding what I was trying to say. Instead of replying, he gently touched my arm and led me to the sofa and made me sit down. “Concentrate. Count to ten and breathe slowly.”

I did as I was told and slowly my breathing got back to normal. As my breathing got slower, my quick heartbeat calmed down as well, and I could actually take a break and breathe a little bit before continuing the conversation.

“CEO Song contacted me”, Myungjun explained. “He said you had a panic attack yesterday. Is that right?”

I nodded. “Yes. There was an incident. A random gunman broke into the broadcasting station and threatened me.”

Myungjun’s eyes widened. “Did they catch him? You’re not physically hurt, are you?”

“They did catch him”, I said. “And I’m all right... physically.”

The boy nodded and placed his hand on top of mine. “Try to not worry too much. You were able to overcome your trauma once, we will achieve that goal again.”

I flashed the boy a smile, somewhere between fake and genuine. “I know.”

“Your symptoms seem to be quite severe right now”, he pointed out with a serious expression. “Are you sure you can continue on without medication? I’m ready to write you a prescription.”

I looked at him and blinked. “If you think I need it.”

After Myungjun promised to write me the prescription the first thing in the morning, we talked for a good hour. It was similar to our psychotherapy sessions I had received from him earlier, but somehow this was even more comfortable. Maybe it was because we were located in my living room, sitting on the comfortable leather sofa, and Myungjun wasn’t wearing his white coat. I rarely saw the young man out of his office, but when I did, he really looked like an average university student - high school student, even. He wasn’t very tall, his face that was framed by shiny chestnut locks looked very youthful, and as he was wearing a casual sweater with black jeans, nobody could’ve ever guessed he was actually a university graduate and a doctor at that. I wasn’t exactly sure how highly educated he was since he was way too young to be a psychiatrist, but since I knew he studied in the best university in the country and worked for Seoul National University’s hospital, I knew he must’ve been pretty good at his job - well, I had been a living proof just two days ago.

We were finishing our session as yet another doorbell ring made me freeze in my tracks and stare at Myungjun with wide eyes for a second. He offered to go an see who was at the door, but I gathered my strength and decided to do it myself. I walked to the door, looking at the screen to see there was actually someone at the door this time. Carefully I opened the door.

“Hello?” I greeted the male. I couldn’t get a clear view of his face as he was looking down and his cap covered his eyes. I frowned a little bit. “Excuse me?”

“Hello”, the male finally responded and raised his chin to look straight into my eyes.

My eyes widened with surprise as I recognized the young man standing at my door. He was the person I had bumped into yesterday - the person who had been partially at fault to this whole mess that was going on around me. For a second I didn’t have the guts to look him in the eye but then a sudden wave of anger made me gather my bravery.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, glaring at him. “Did you come for revenge? Money? Are you a sasaeng or something?”

I didn’t realize it as I was speaking but I was talking very fast. As I finally shut up, I was almost out of breath by the speed of speech I had used. Myungjun, who had become curious at the noise, had walked behind me and gently touched me in my shoulder to remind me that I needed to, indeed, breath in between sentences. He was eyeing at the young man who stood at the door, cautiously.

“I’m here because I was told to come here”, he stated with a deep, calm voice. “I didn’t come for revenge nor am I a sasaeng. I did come for money, kind of, since I’m here for work. I’m your new manager.”

I stared at the young man with raised eyebrows, confused, not sure if I had heard right. I tried to see a sign that'd reveal that he was lying but I couldn't. But it didn’t make any sense, what he was saying. How could he be my new manager? Even if he had been hired, why would he be here after our incident yesterday? I would have resigned if I was him.

“Are you trying to trick me now?” I asked, placing my hands on my waist.

“No”, the young man replied immediately. “I knew you wouldn’t believe.”

I looked as the young man took something out of his hoodie’s pocket. It turned out to be his phone, which he tapped a few times, then showing the screen at me. There was a text message from a number I knew very well, it was from CEO Song. The message had my address and an order to go to my apartment today. I let out a sarcastic chuckle. How could this be possible?

“Now”, the young man sighed. “Can I come in?”


End file.
